Sonnet 43
by The Needless Lobsters
Summary: What happens when you leave Tony alone in a bullpen with Ziva's handbag? Well, curiousity sure does arise... A oneshot based on the poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.


**Hey, guys! I have a Tiva fanfic for you!**

**This fanfic is based on the poem 'Sonnet 43', by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and I thought it would be such a good idea for Tiva that I had to write it! I hope you like it!**

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Tony sighed.

He was bored.

Okay, so he hadn't finished his paperwork, but he didn't really feel like finishing it.

That was McGee's job.

_Maybe he could leave his paperwork on his desk…_

Tony sighed again before looking around the bullpen.

Despite the fact that it was nowhere near lunchtime, and the fact that the rest of the office was extremely noisy due to all the chatter and tapping from computers, the MCRT bullpen was eerily silent. There was no one there: Gibbs had gone out as usual for coffee; McGee was down in Abby's lab for some reason, talking geek with Abby; and Ziva… well, Ziva was just nowhere to be seen. He had no idea where exactly the woman had gone…

But she _had_ left her purse.

Tony grinned. Maybe he _could_ rid himself of his boredom…

He got up and looked around, making sure that no one was actually watching him, before sneaking over to her desk. He knelt down and picked up the handbag before setting it on her desk and beginning to rummage through it.

He didn't find much in there; just some make up – which shocked him a little – a mirror, a mobile phone, some pens, a diary…

Wait, a _diary_?

He carefully picked up the A5 sized notebook and pulled it out. It wasn't very big – about the size of a regular dictionary, but nowhere near as thick – and it was decorated very neutrally, as there weren't too many flowers or other feminine things on it.

All in all, it was a very Ziva diary.

He opened the diary to the first page, and his eyes widened when he read the date.

It was from _September 2005_.

He was suddenly intrigued as he read through the diary entries. They all spoke about her coming to NCIS – Tony could clearly remember that day; it was etched into his mind. He could remember everything about how she looked that day: her crazy hair, her badass attitude, her combats and bandana, those deep brown eyes…

He smiled as he read through her retelling of their first undercover mission, the mere thought of it highly amusing to him. He could remember how easily those FBI agents had been convinced at their act…

He read on through the diary, smiling, frowning, and biting his lip at the different moments. The time when Gibbs left for Mexico, and then he returned, and then there was Jeanne – he cringed at that part – and then La Grenuille died, and then Jenny's death… – he nearly cried at that part – …and then there was Michael – he winced at that bad memory – and her return to Israel… and Somalia – memories that definitely should not have been revisited – and… Paris…

He heart swelled when he saw the photo. His favourite photo. Just, there. Right there. In black and white – literally. He ran his fingers over the photograph, smiling softly at her. She looked so graceful in this photo…

He went back to reading through the diary entries. He smiled softly. He had reached the part where she had finally obtained her American citizenship…

And then EJ arrived on the scene. Tony could literally feel the anger jumping out at him from the text. He had never known that Ziva had been so… jealous….

He quickly flicked through, ignoring all of the 'EJ-hate' that Ziva had written until he got to the part he wanted.

Ray.

He found himself gritting his teeth as he read through his part, feeling jealous of how she had felt towards him… until he got to the end. The last 'Ray-centric' page was littered with hate… and tear stains… there were even little broken hearts doodled all over the page. A ripped photo of the man with a huge cross on his head was stuck on the page.

It only then occurred to Tony exactly what he was doing. He was forcefully reading through the mind of the one-and-only Ziva David, something that he should've found interesting and funny, but instead found touching, deep, and disgusting. Disgusting because he was actually looking through it. It didn't belong to him.

It felt wrong.

Just as he was about to close the diary and put it back, a loose piece of paper slipped out and landed in front of him. He closed the diary carefully and placed it on Ziva's desk before he picked up the piece of paper and read it.

On one side of the paper he found a poem. He smiled softly as he read it.

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! –  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace.  
I love thee to the level of everyday's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight—  
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right,—  
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise;  
I love thee with the passion, put to use  
I my old griefs,… and with my childhood's faith:  
I love thee with the love I seemed to lose  
With my lost Saints,– I love thee with the breath,  
Smiles, tears, of all my life!– and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death._

He gave a small, watery smile. He remembered this poem – it was one from his childhood. One that his mother used to read to him. One that both he and she used to love.

And one that Ziva also loved.

Out of curiousity, he turned over the piece of paper and found something written on the back.

_My dearest love,  
I love you. I love the way you smile at me,  
And make my deepest fears leave.  
I love the way your hair sits messily on your head,  
Your eyes sparkling and smiling, a joke in mind.  
I love the way you laugh, ever childish and playful,  
But with a longing to be joined.  
I love the way you talk, always light,  
But serious when needed the most.  
Most of all, I love you.  
Your laugh, your smile, your eyes.  
Your voice, your jokes, your personality.  
Just you.  
Forever.  
Ziva David xxx_

Tony blinked, slightly shocked. The great Ziva David had written a _love poem_? He read through it again. It was clearly someone she had known for a while… maybe a neighbour or a close friend?

"What are you doing?"

Tony jumped out of his skin, hitting his knee on the desk with a loud bang. This in turn caused Ziva's handbag to fly off the desk and land on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. The only thing that was left intact was the diary.

Ziva frowned when she spotted the diary on her desk and the piece of paper sat in Tony's lap. "Is that…?"

Tony froze. "Uh…"

"This is private, Tony! You have just invaded my privacy!" She snatched the diary and the paper away from him.

"I know… I know… and I deeply apologise, Zi! Honest!" He held his hands up in defence. "Just please don't kill me!"

Ziva narrowed his eyes at him, gritting her teeth. "Fine," she ground out.

"I just have one question."

She folded her arms and waited, not trusting herself enough so speak.

"Who is that poem for?"

"That is none of your business." And with that, she stormed away.

Tony sighed as he ran one hand through his hair. "Dammit…" he muttered quietly to himself.

It was a few days later when Tony finally received a sign from Ziva showing that she had forgiven him.

It came in the form of a letter tucked into his desk. He had just come into work that morning, being last as usual, and was rummaging through his desk when he found it tucked into his top drawer. No one else was in the office, so he decided to open it.

"_Dear Tony_," it read, "_I know how sorry you are. It is a part of your nature to be so curious. That is why you are such a good agent. And for that reason, I forgive you._

"_You asked me the other day who the poem was meant for. Enclosed with this letter is a piece of paper that tells you. Do not show this to anyone else._"

Tony frowned before looking into the envelope and pulling out not one, but two pieces of paper. He was very confused when he found that one of the pieces of paper had the poems on it. Then he saw the much smaller, folded up piece of paper. He slowly unfolded it, nervous and excited about the words he would see.

And then they were there.

"_**It was you.**_"

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**So, what do you think? Review!**


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